Thursday, 27 October 2016

This was the fifth time
Ella had dialed the customer care number. This time she couldn’t hang up. The
voice was deep, soothing, almost irresistible. She felt like it could comfort
her, if not heal her.

“Mark?” his name
slipped from her lips, unknowingly.

“Yes ma’am, is there
anything you want to speak about? I’ll be glad to help you.”

There was a lump in her
throat. Ella wanted to speak, but the words simply lingered inside, refusing to
come out. The more she struggled to unleash them, the more unwavering they
became.

And then, seconds of
silence followed.

“Ma’am? Is everything
alright? Do you want to complain about a product you purchased from us?"Ella could only manage
to squeeze out a feeble ‘no.’

“Ma’am?”

More silence.

She wondered if he
would just cut off the call now. No, call center executives cannot do that.
They aren’t allowed to do that; she assured herself. But why isn’t he saying
anything? She seemed to be hearing her own heartbeat racing.

She could hear the
exhalation from the other end, loud and clear. Was she pissing him off?

“Is there anything that’s
bothering you, ma’am? I can sense that. I could be of help if you share.”

Smart guy! He’s
choosing his words carefully. He knows the calls are being recorded.

Ella knew she had asked
a silly question. Why on earth would a stranger divulge his personal life at
his workplace out of the blue? That too when he knows he is being tracked?

Still, somehow, this realization
seemed unacceptable. It deepened the cracks in her aching heart even more. So,
here was the bitter truth – she couldn’t say it to anyone. Not even to a
stranger. A hot drop of tear slid down her cheek.'

“Ma’am?”

She fought back to keep
her tears from falling, but couldn’t.

“Um?,” her voice shook,
the tone ill-defined.

“Are you crying?”

She couldn’t hold any
longer. Her sobs turned louder and her tears hotter.

“Mark? Can you stay on
the call? Just for a while? Please?”

“Sure thing, ma’am.”

“Thanks.”

He didn’t seem pissed
off anymore. Mark was relaxed, kind of considerate this time.

And Ella cried her
heart out. No, she didn’t want to share her story. She just wanted someone to
be there…to hear her weep at midnight, to let know that she’s in despair.

When the sobs finally
died down, Mark spoke, “Are you feeling better, ma’am?”

“Um,” Ella replied.

“Would you like to get
some sleep?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Another minute of
silence followed. Call center guys are supposed to strike great conversations,
aren’t they? What was keeping Mark so hushed?

“You know, I’ve been a
nasty person. I’ve made terrible decisions, upset everyone associated with me.
I’ve been the bad guy everywhere, hurting people who love me. I’ve loved and
lost and had revenge. A lot many times,” Ella spoke in a single breath.

“Don’t blame yourself
ma’am. We are all humans after all.”

“Do you think I’m a bad
person?”

A stranger’s opinion shouldn’t
have mattered. But, somehow, for Ella, it did, from this guy.

“Not at all, ma’am. I'm sure you are a beautiful person from inside. Not everyone has the courage to own up
their mistakes. You’re crying in the middle of the night, and that shows you
still care.”

Flattery, eh? Wasn’t he
bothered about the calls being recorded now? But it was his voice…it felt like
some sort of ecstasy pill – extremely pacifying.

“You’re not nasty,
ma’am. And she isn’t either. It’s just that…she passed away last week.”

Ella felt like she was hit
by a thousand volts of electricity. She hung up. It was like a reflex action. Without
speaking another word, without a goodbye. She was terrified. Her heart was
thumping more than ever, her hands shaking.

What if she never got a
chance to apologize?

She picked up her phone
and typed a status on her Facebook profile...

“Life’s too short for
battles and revenge, for tears and sobs. Every damage can be repaired until
death. Beyond it, we don’t know what lies.”

Monday, 28 September 2015

A few years back, I had ordered a few tacky-looking jewelry sets from a leading eCommerce website (today, I wonder why I did). The deal was nothing unique. There was a pink choker set with large, dangling earrings, on display, and three other multicolored scoop shorts of weird designs. I was into my first job and enjoying the liberty of spending self-earned money to the fullest. Perhaps.

So, I had placed a COD order with a Rs 2000 plus something bill. And, I was excited. It was the first thing I was going to buy with my salary. And it felt great. I eagerly waited for the delivery date to arrive. However, the product never came. The tracking tool on the website said it ‘had already been shipped.’ So, I sent back an e-mail inquiring about my order. Luckily, their response was quick.

“Dear Miss Deka, we are extremely sorry for the inconvenience and delay caused. Your product will be delivered tomorrow at 4 pm by so-and-so person.”

The wait was on. The delivery boy came the next day with a big package. I handed him the cash and quickly rushed inside the office to open it. There were three packages. The pink choker was missing. And one of the other two sets was broken.

So, there was another e-mail inquiring about the missing product and the replacement of the broken set. The response was quick again. “Dear Miss Deka, we sincerely apologize the inconvenience caused. Could you specify the model numbers of the two products?” The model numbers were mailed. And there was another response. “Dear Miss Deka, we are sending the two products at the earliest.” I was overjoyed and almost felt like a VIP. So, this means that the broken set need not be returned.

Five days later, another person was in my office, this time with a smaller package. The replacement was there, but the pink choker was still missing. The eCommerce firm had sent me a different set instead. So, there was some more emailing and complaining. More “Dear Miss Deka, we are sending the two products at the earliest” responses followed. A month later, I had three pieces of a set that wasn’t even included in the deal. And the most interesting part was, the firm had not demanded their return as of yet.

However, I was at my wit’s end. How could they not deliver my pink choker – the one because of which I had chosen the deal in the first place?!? So, I decided to try a trick this time. I hunted for that extra set on their website, noted its model number, and e-mailed them that I had not received the set. To my amusement, the pink choker was delivered this time. Wonderful, wonderful feeling! So, I had spent Rs 2000 plus something for 8 pieces of jewelry, had not I? Double profit, it was!

Sometimes I feel bad that I never inquired anything about returning the
extra sets. But then, even they didn’t, did they? So why bother? For me,
this was the best online deal of my life. It’s funny how I have never
worn the pink choker. And about the extra sets, well, they were given
away as gifts. Oh come on, you don't have to take it otherwise, do you?
:) :P

Jani had her home in a slum. Her mother
used to sit underneath a canopy at the turning of the small alley which
ran across the blighted area, selling small stuffs. Her income was
meager. Some extra money would pour in once in a blue moon, and there
would occasionally be provision for tea as well. Jani had always seen
that routine, her mother never tiring and setting up her little shop
every morning with new hope. She had never seen a life beyond those
dusty streets and dingy huts. Her mother would narrate stories about the
city to her, about the big tall buildings, the buses and cars, the busy
streets and the orange street-lights, the fancy restaurants and flashy
shops, and she would dream about being there someday. The house she was
living in was a one room accommodation with a leaky roof and brick
walls, matted with ages of black soot. There was a small bed in the
corner with a soiled bed-sheet covering it. There was no money to buy
another and so they slept on it ever. A rainy day would be tough and
they would spend hours putting buckets under the leaks, emptying and
re-filling all the while and praying for the downpour to stop. Dinner
would usually be a plate of white rice at most, and on more fortunate
days, they would have lentils and some vegetables. Life was difficult
for them, but they were content. Jani’s mother had stitched a cloth doll
for her sixth birthday. The little girl adored it and would show it off
to her friends, comb its hair, offer it false food and sleep with it by
her side at night. She never parted with her doll. She would enjoy the
attention of her friends and would spend hours boasting about her prized
possession.

Monsoon had settled in, the rain bringing with it a lot of
distress that year. The gutter nearby was overflowing with stinking
murky water. The area was flooded and dirty, diseases spreading and
people dropping like flies. There were frequent visits from NGOs and
relief centers. But the scene was going from bad towards worse.
Medicines didn’t suffice and food was scanty. Jani’s mother too, was
down with high fever, some kind of deadly flu, the doctors said. She had
become pale and thin. The free medicines had failed to work and the
poor girl didn’t know what to do. A night after the relief camp had
withdrawn her mother’s condition worsened. She kept throwing up the
whole night, her feet cold and body shivering. Jani was scared to sleep
with her. So, she slept on the floor with the doll by her side and
lulled herself to sleep. Her mother died that night; Jani was left all
alone.

The coming days were tough for Jani to cope up. Initially, the
neighbors would pity her and offer food from their small shares. But as
the days passed, the warmth in their voice lessened. The shortage of and
greed for a full time meal and all the bitterness of their miseries had
hardened their hearts. The rain had got heavy and the roof leakier than
before, and finally one ill-starred night, it crashed. Poor Jani had no
shelter now. Though she had survived the accident, she knew that there
was more discomfort coming her way. She hugged her doll tightly to her
bosom and cried the whole night, fighting the rain and cursing her fate,
wishing she were dead, and at the crack of the dawn, she made up her
mind to leave the slum forever, oblivious of the future.

So, she bundled her belongings up in the soiled bed-sheet. There
wasn’t much to carry. Just few old clothes, a stale piece of cooked
meat, which one of her neighbors had once offered, a packet of white
chalk which her mother had given long back, and her favorite, the cloth
doll. As she walked past the small alley, Jani remembered the good old
days with her mother and her friends. She approached the turning where
her mother used to set her canopy up. The rain had swept away the
temporary set-up, leaving only a pool of mud instead. The oilcloth that
her mother had once used to save the puny shop from rains was half
buried in mud, and a stray dog sat there, happily munching on a bone.
She envied the dog with all heart. She tried to chase it away, suddenly
feeling immensely possessive about the thing that once belonged to her
mother. But the animal was reluctant. It gave a huge carefree yawn and
reverted back to its chewing. She tried a few more times, but failed.
Jani was frustrated, her heart heavy with the failure to retrieve her
mother’s oilcloth. Just as she was about to give up and leave, the dog
came to her wagging its tail. It had smelled the meat in her bundle.
But, Jani didn’t have the slightest idea about canine behavior and gave a
feeble attempt to shoo it away, confused and scared. But there was a
sudden sharp bark in reply, giving her a strong panic attack. The dog
plunged upon her bundle in an attempt to discover what it had smelled.
Jani freaked out and after a brief struggle managed to tear the bundle
out of its mouth. A terrified Jani then ran for her life, clasping her
bundle tightly and not daring to look back.

Exhausted and shaken by the unexpected aggression, she arrived at
the city at mid noon. It was exactly how her mother had described it to
be- busy and flashy ever. She found her place underneath a peepal tree
growing near the road-side. There was a woman selling fruits at a
distance. She had tied her one-year old baby boy by his right foot to
the lamp-post nearby, restraining him from wandering into the streets,
and was busy attending to the customers. Her voice was hoarse and she
sweated even in the shade all day long. The fruits in her basket
reminded Jani of her empty stomach. She opened up her package hoping to
find the piece of meat. But there was no meat. There was a large tear in
the bed sheet. So, the dog had succeeded in its attempt after all! She
searched for her other belongings. She had her frocks and the packet of
chalk intact. But, her treasure, the doll was gone! That night, she
slept underneath the tree with the bundle as her pillow, crying in
hunger and despair, chewing the chalk pieces she had and longing for her
cloth doll by her side and had a dream about her mother narrating
stories about the big city.

A tickle in the ear woke Jani up early morning. It was the dog
from the slum licking her face. It had followed her to the city and was
now sitting beside her, wagging its tail, its tongue out. The previous
day’s tiff was still fresh in her mind and this time Jani was more angry
than frightened. The beast had stolen her food and taken her dear doll.
With much spite, she grabbed a stone lying nearby and threw it at its
head. The dog let out a weak whimper and skipped a few steps back.
Satisfied, Jani went back to sleep. A few moments later she felt the
tickle again. Annoyed and disgusted, she got up to hit the dog again and
stopped suddenly. It was her doll; the dog was holding it in its mouth.
It came towards her, this time with more caution, and settled near her,
putting the toy at her feet. Jani was viewing the whole drama silently
and could not believe her eyes. She had found her doll again. And she
had found a new friend as well. She patted the dog’s head and said,
“Thank you. Will you stay here with me? I’ll call you Kala”. The dog
rested its head on her lap. Kala had reciprocated her love.

The next day started bright for Jani. An apple had accidentally
rolled down from the woman’s basket into the streets. She had found it
while taking a stroll nearby and taken it to her place. Kala had found a
bone to chew upon. A light breeze was blowing and they were dozing off
under the cool shade of the tree. Kala would raise his ears once in a
while, paying attention to the slightest of sounds. But, Jani was soon
in a deep slumber, dreaming about her life in the slum. She saw herself
in her mother’s sari, the cloth doll in her arms and Kala following her,
barking at a neighbor of hers. Then she saw her home. Someone was
cooking inside the kitchen, might be her mother. Just as she was about
to call her from behind, she felt a tight slap on her face and woke up
with a start. The fruit seller lady was standing there, anger showing
all over her dark face. Jani noticed her black unclean teeth and fuzzy
hair and shuddered. “You took the apple from the streets, didn’t you?”,
the lady inquired, dominance distinct in her tone. She gave a nod and
there was a slap again. “Now pay for it”, screamed the lady. “But I
don’t have any money”, Jani answered, a little frightened. The lady was
furious now. “I don’t sit here all day to do charity! If you don’t have
money, give me something else. Show me what you have in that dirty pack
of yours”, she pointed towards her bundle. Jani quietly opened it. Kala
was watching her with great observance. The lady ransacked the bundle,
scrutinizing the things in it, until her eyes fell on the cloth doll.
She took it in her hands and muttered to herself, “My son is going to
love this”. She turned towards Jani and bluntly said, “I’ll take this.”
The poor girl was already in tears. That was her mother’s last gift. She
could never part with it, never. She snatched it back from the lady and
snapped, “Anything, but this.” Jani’s words were like a huge blow on
the fruit seller’s superiority. Enraged, she put her hands forward in an
attempt to grab the doll from her. But Kala was already alert. He
pounced upon the lady, almost pinning her to the ground. The lady was in
a state of shock. Kala’s sharp barks left her no choice but to leave
the place. After she was gone, Jani hugged Kala and thanked him, and
promised never to leave him.

That evening, Kala was run down by a car. Jani was outside a
baker’s shop, picking up a half eaten cake from the dustbin nearby when
she heard the brakes screech. Kala was dead by the time she reached. His
intestines were out and bathed in blood. The car driver geared off not
bothering to look at what had come under the wheels. Passersby did a
"tch-tch" and a "tchu-tchu" and went away. The fruit seller lady gave a
sinister smile and was back to her business, shouting in her hoarse
voice even more enthusiastically. Suddenly, the city no longer seemed
like what her mother had described. Jani cried by his side till
midnight, indifferent to the dust and the traffic in the streets. She
had lost a friend.

Early in the morning, when the road was empty and the dust had
died down, Jani slowly went to the peepal tree and brought back her
soiled bed-sheet. She picked up the bits and parts of Kala’s cold body
and carefully wrapped it up in the cloth. She took him back to the tree
and started digging the ground with her bare hands. But the ground was
coarse and Jani was just a child with not enough strength. Even after a
couple of hours of desperate struggle she could still not dig enough
earth to lay Kala’s rotting body. The sun beams were slowly dawning
through the darkness. The street lights were dimming down and cars and
buses were beginning to run again. Jani noticed that the fruit seller
was back with her baby. Keeping the previous day’s tiff and all her fear
aside, she went to her and asked, “Can you help me out? I need to dig
the ground to bury my pet dog.” The lady looked at her as if she were a
criminal. “Go to hell! Both you and your flea bag!”, she thundered. Jani
thought for a moment and said again, “Please, I know you didn’t like
him. But he is dead now.” After few seconds of silence the lady said,
“Fine. I have a knife. But you’ll get it only when you give me the doll.
And yes, give me the knife as soon as possible. I have a lot of work to
do. I don’t sit here all day to solve other’s problems.” Jani nodded a
silent yes.

So her mother’s last gift was soon gone. A grave was dug out neatly
for Kala and he was rested in it. Jani was heart-broken and silent. She
wept by his grave and slept by his side that night. And, she dreamed of
being at her home again. And in her dreams she saw her mother in the
kitchen, cooking for her. She smiled at her and welcomed her with open
arms, “Where were you Jani? I’ve waited for so long and missed you so
much. I’m glad that you’ve returned”. Jani felt the warmth of her
mother’s cosy bosom.

It had been raining for two days at a stretch. My usually bright room had started to look gloomy and there was a light stench of rotten food in the air. I guess it was coming from the common garbage heap outside.

No, not the neighbors’ fault. It was just those municipality people. Well, they hardly showed up. And adding to my woes, there was no electricity in the locality. The place I used to love had suddenly become a pain in the rear. I had lost my umbrella and there was no way I could go out or call a friend over. I was bored to death and helpless. My phone was dead, the battery in the laptop all drained out. I was hungry, but there wasn’t any food in the refrigerator. All I found were some old biscuit and a big, dusty packet of noodles. Not bothering to check the expiry date, I just cooked some and gobbled up a bowlful. Nothing so far had tasted any better, I swear. Satisfied and full, I lazily dumped the bowl in the sink and myself on my cosy bed.

Sleep is a tempting state, I must say. All the big pour and the gray room were slowly taking me into a deep slumber. I was enjoying it....lazy me! I wasn’t bothered about anything then, not about the not-so-favorable times, not about the mountain of work back at the office and not even about my nagging mother. I was actually feeling good that the phone wasn’t working. At least I didn’t have to stand the curt remarks of my boss or answer my mother’s hourly rings to inquire if I was okay.

Then suddenly, shattering all my peace, came a huge knock at the door. I sat up on my bed, almost getting a brain freeze. Pissed off and bitter, I reluctantly went to the door and checked through the peephole. It was a child, a boy, 10-12 years of age, all drenched in rain. He knocked again and this time with more desperation. His hands were muddy and so were his torn clothes, eyes sunken deep into the orbits, face unclean and feet without shoes.

Beggar! I thought. Of late, the locality had been facing this problem of bugging beggars. I was pissed off more! Just as he was about to knock again, I opened the door sharply. “What do you want?”, I snapped at him. He was taken aback and slowly put a shaky hand forward, too terrified to speak. “I don’t have money. Now go”, I snapped again and slammed the door. I checked again. He was still there, much in a state of shock. Then, suddenly he gathered himself slowly walked away. I watched him till he was gone, and then I heard a faint cry... “I was just....hungry."

A sudden surge of guilt overpowered me. I opened the door again. But he was already gone, the rain making it impossible to see further. That night, I could not sleep at all. I tossed and turned on my bed like an insomniac, wishing I had taken back my words. I could have given him my share of noodles, maybe the whole packet. I could have made him take a bath and give those sunken eyes some sleep. I was full of remorse. The rain was slowing down and electricity was back. All the possible reasons of my gloom were gone. But, my mind wasn’t calm. Time and again I could hear his voice, mocking me, cursing and taunting me. What had I done??

Morning came like a sharp blade of heat. The rain was gone, my room bright again. I had stayed up the whole night and was feeling sluggish. Nevertheless, I got up from bed, took a bath and had a quick breakfast of my old biscuits. I was having a terrible headache and desperately needed a painkiller. So, I dressed up and headed towards the chemist shop nearby. The streets were still muddy, but the grass was cleaner and greener. The rotten food in the garbage heap was still stinking. And, I could see a small gathering of people, probably discussing the issue.

As I was walking past them, I heard one of them say, “He must have eaten something from the dustbin.” With a thud in my heart I stopped and turned towards the heap. There he was, lying near a trash bag, a rotten piece of bread in his muddy palm. His mouth was slightly open, a layer of whitish foam dripping, and his sunken eyes, wide open. He was looking at me....yes, at me, questioning, accusing. I could not take it any longer. It was as if the sky was crashing onto me, my surrounding fading. The ground no longer held me firm. I was blacking out.